Malicious Pursuit

by KG MacGregor

  "Are the police after you?"

  "Yes…," she was barely whispering, "trying to kill me. Please help me."

  Kill her? Surely she didn’t mean the police were trying to kill her. But by the battered face, it looked like somebody was. Ruth’s sensibilities told her that she shouldn’t get involved, but it was too late for that. Of all the cars in the lot, this woman had picked hers. Something else — her instincts, perhaps — said that she couldn’t just turn the injured woman out; that a dreadful fate awaited her.

  "Let’s get you inside."

  * * *

  "Jessie, go outside and get the green blanket from the car. Bring it to my bedroom, okay?" Ruth was guiding the injured woman down the dark hallway to the bedroom in the back.

  The child quickly ran back out to the car, returning with a plastic package almost too large for her to carry.

  "That’s it, honey. Good girl. Can you pull the plastic off?"

  Ruth eased the woman down to sit on the edge of the bed, holding her upright with one hand while her other released the blanket from its packaging and flung it haphazardly across the center of the bed. Lifting the sides of the nylon poncho, she pulled it over the woman’s head and dropped it on the floor. Without the cover, she could see the trail of blood running from the deep gash above the brow, and another splotch that covered her upper arm.

  Wrapping an arm around the sagging shoulders, Ruth edged her backward onto the bed, propping a foam pillow beneath her head. Then she lifted the feet and swung them to the end of the bed.

  "Sweetie, I’m going to let you watch television by yourself for awhile, okay? I need to help this lady."

  Jessie nodded, clearly afraid of this stranger. "Will she hurt us?"

  "No, honey, she isn’t going to hurt us. We’re going to help her feel better. Then she’ll be able to go back to her house by herself." Ruth hoped it was that simple. It was bad enough to have a bleeding stranger in her home; it was worse having someone like that so close to Jessie.

  She walked her daughter back to the living room, settled her into the recliner with a carton of juice, and tuned in a children’s channel on the TV. Next, she unpacked her first aid supplies from the box of toiletries and cosmetics in the bathroom. There wasn’t much: some plastic bandages with pictures of cartoon characters, a few cotton balls, tape, anti-biotic cream, and rubbing alcohol. This was the standard kit for Jessie’s skinned knees and elbows, and she hoped it would be enough to treat this mysterious woman’s injuries.

  The first priority was to stop the bleeding above the woman’s eye and on her arm. Filling a mixing bowl with water, Ruth wet a cloth and began to wipe away the dried blood. The cut was only about an inch wide, just above the brow, but it went all the way to the bone. From the bruising on the forehead, it looked as though she’d been hit with something blunt that split the skin. Pressing the woman’s shoulder to the bed to hold her still, Ruth used a cotton ball to dab the alcohol directly into the wound.

  The injured woman moaned without opening her eyes.

  "Yeah, I know it hurts. I’m sorry," she soothed. Next, she gently applied the anti-biotic cream and closed the wound with two narrow strips of tape. The woman shivered and Ruth folded the blanket over her. She would deal with the arm after she fed her child.

  * * *

  "Are you going to sleep with that hurt lady?" Jessie asked innocently as she crawled into bed.

  "No, honey. Tonight I’m going to sleep on the couch like we did this afternoon."

  "You can sleep in my bed," the child offered.

  That was a tempting offer, but it wasn’t fair to disrupt Jessie’s sleep for a second night in a row. "You’re sweet, little Megan," she smiled, nuzzling her daughter’s hair. "And I love you. But I’ll be okay on the couch."

  "I love you too, Mommy."

  Ruth pulled the door almost closed and headed back to the bigger bedroom to check on their patient. During dinner, she had become suddenly anxious that the woman might actually die in their trailer, and she’d jumped up to find her resting peacefully, but feverish. That, no doubt, was from being out in the rain.

  With a fresh bowl of warm water, Ruth prepared to tend to the arm injury. Pulling the blanket back, she noticed for the first time that the woman was wearing some sort of rainproof jumpsuit. Why was she dressed to be out in the rain? Had she been riding a motorcycle? That was the most logical explanation, and maybe the pouring rain would then explain why she sought refuge in the car.

  As she unsnapped the top, she saw a denim jacket underneath, and a white t-shirt under that. Starting with the boots, she carefully undressed her patient, stopping when she reached the jeans and t-shirt.

  Carefully, she pushed up the reddened sleeve of the shirt, gasping in horror as the source of the blood was revealed: a swollen and discolored puncture wound, festering with infection. Was this a bullet wound? This, she realized, was the real source of the fever.

  The overhead light in the room wasn’t bright enough to allow a close inspection, so she retrieved a small lamp from the living room. Holding it close, she could barely make out something brown and solid in the center of the wound, a stick or something. Gently brushing her fingertip across the opening, she could feel a jagged point. Whatever it was, it needed to come out, and the hole needed to be cleaned.

  Soaking a cotton ball with alcohol, she dripped a little of the fluid onto the wound, causing the woman to wake up and jerk away.

  "Shhh, I’m trying to help you here. You need to relax."

  "It’s…a stick…broken."

  "Yeah, I can see that. I’m going to have to try to pull it out, and it’s going to hurt like hell."

  "It already does," she gasped.

  With the tweezers from her cosmetic bag, Ruth pinched the end of the stick and gently started to work it out. Unable to stand the pain, the injured woman flinched and tried to sit up.

  "You have to be still. I’ll be as careful as I can." With her left hand, she gently pressed the woman’s collarbone and urged her back against the blanket. As the anguished face contorted in pain, Ruth tugged the stick, this time pulling it clean amidst a new flow of blood. That would help cleanse the wound, but the alcohol would be better. As she trickled it again directly into the wound, the woman flailed, her flesh on fire.

  "Shhh, that’s it. You can go back to sleep," Ruth soothed.

  * * *

  "These fuckers are the Keystone Cops," Akers groused into his cell phone. "’Urgent’ means after they’ve had their goddamned donuts and taken a dump. Rollins was long gone before they ever got there." The agent was driving back to the city for the night. They would put out an APB tomorrow. The more time that lapsed, the more dangerous this got for everybody.

  "Diaz went out right after the call, but she wasn’t gone more than twenty minutes," Pollard reported. "And she came back alone."

  "I don’t trust that dyke. We’re going to need some rookie backup to keep her under surveillance 24/7, home and office. Rollins will call her again. Hell, she might be stupid enough to walk into her office. We just need to make sure we’re there when she does."

  "Okay, I’ll line up a couple of guys in the morning," the junior agent said. He didn’t agree at all with the senior agent about Rollins being stupid. Hell, she’d slipped away from them three times already; not many people could say that.

  CHAPTER 10

  AS TIRED AS she was, Ruth had expected a better night’s sleep, even on the cramped couch. But the anxiety about being on the run, coupled with the presence of an injured stranger in their home, robbed her of the peace of mind she needed to completely rest. Now the sun was up, and it already looked as though today, it might actually shine.

  It was Sunday. She’d give her right arm to know what was going on back in Madison today. Chances were no one had even missed her yet. Skip never contacted her over the weekend, and she’d told her friends at work that they planned to stay indoors and play. Friends rarely called when she had Jessie, not wanting to interrupt
her time.

  Coffee would be good, she thought, tossing back the thin blanket as she set her bare feet on the cold vinyl floor. All she had was a packet of instant that she’d nicked from work. They’d have to hit the grocery today.

  As she shuffled over to the kitchen area, she was startled by a pounding on the door, accompanied by animated shouts from her landlady.

  "Anybody up?"

  Jesus! Flinging open the door, Ruth squinted in the light of day as she greeted a beaming Viv on the porch. How could people be so jolly at this hour of the morning?

  "Still in bed, huh?"

  "What time is it?" A brisk autumn breeze blew into the room, and she hugged herself as she shivered.

  "It’s almost nine o’clock."

  "You’re kidding!" Maybe she had slept better than she thought.

  "You’re just in time to witness the miracle of birth."

  A still sleepy Jessie joined her mother at the door, wearing her favorite blue pajamas. "Puppies?" she asked excitedly.

  "Yes, ma’am! They’re coming now." Viv had told them both yesterday that Maggie was overdue.

  "Can we go see?" the little girl begged.

  "Sure. Let me get my…," the child stepped off the porch into Viv’s waiting arms and was gone before she could blink, "shoes."

  Before leaving, Ruth tiptoed down the hall to check on her patient. The cut over her eye had seeped a little, but all in all, it was a hell of a lot better than it had been last night. The arm looked better already, swathed in ointment and covered in a Fred Flintstone bandage. The woman had hardly moved in the night, and seemed to be resting without distress.

  Ruth looked for the first time at the mysterious woman in her bed. Her face was pretty, despite the swollen eye that would probably be black by tomorrow. The hair was disheveled and stringy from being wet, but it was a nice shade of brown with auburn highlights. The woman was calm today, compared to the night before when she’d been agitated and anxious about no one knowing she was there. That was certainly an ironic coincidence, Ruth thought. Neither of them wanted anyone to know she was there. Now if they could just get her well and get her out before anyone…Shit! Please don’t say anything, Jessie.

  Ruth donned her shoes and robe, grabbing the same for her daughter before she bolted across the yard to the back door. In the utility room off the kitchen, Maggie was doing her thing as Viv, Jessie and proud papa Thor looked on in fascination.

  "Look, Mommy, four puppies!"

  "Here, put these on, sweetie." She handed the child her slippers and robe.

  "And more on the way," Viv added, pressing a welcome mug of hot coffee into her tenant’s hand. "You want cream or sugar?"

  "No thanks. This is perfect. Thank you."

  The black lab had produced two chocolates, one black, and one yellow offspring thus far.

  "How many do you think she’ll have?"

  "A usual litter is anywhere between six and ten. I’m hoping for more because they’ll fetch about four hundred dollars apiece."

  "You’re kidding! People really pay that much for a dog?" Ruth asked.

  "Full-blooded Labradors aren’t just any dog, I’ll have you know. Thor’s a champion, and Maggie’s won Best of Opposite Sex three times."

  "What does that mean?"

  Viv went on to tell about their successes in the area dog shows. She’d given that up last year when Thor won his champion status. It was a lot of work to show dogs, she explained.

  Jessie watched Maggie with excitement as Viv led Ruth to her den, where ribbons, trophies, and photos documented her dogs’ illustrious careers in the ring.

  "You don’t show anymore?"

  "Naw, I mean, it was alright." Viv turned out the light in the den and led them back to the action off the kitchen. "It’s just that after a while, the dogs didn’t seem to like it all that much, and it didn’t seem right to put ‘em through all that training and grooming and traveling when they weren’t having any fun."

  That seemed like a fair response to Ruth. She’d always heard you could tell a lot about people from the way they treated animals, and Viv, she thought, was probably a pretty good soul.

  A half hour later, the mother’s work was done, a grand total of eight puppies, all seemingly healthy and squirming contentedly. Maggie poked each one with her nose as if counting off, then licked them clean and guided them to her teats.

  "I like that one," Jessie proclaimed, pointing to a fat chocolate pup on the top of the pile.

  "Then I’ll save that one for you," Viv promised.

  "Oh, we better wait and see," Ruth interjected. She was, after all, the mommy. "I don’t think I can afford four hundred dollars for a dog, Viv."

  "This one’s a gift for Megan…and for you, of course." Viv already liked these two and she wanted them to be happy here and stay for a long time.

  Pleading looks from both her landlady and daughter erased Ruth’s hesitation. Jessie needed something fun in her life, and it looked like they would be sticking around for a while.

  "Okay, but you’re going to have to help take care of it," she told her daughter.

  "Oh, I will," the happy child promised. She’d never had a puppy before.

  To Ruth, this had all the feeling of a bad sitcom. She could already see herself walking the dog alone in the snow and cleaning up its mess. And it would probably end up sleeping at the foot of her bed. "Megan, why don’t we go get some breakfast while Maggie takes a nap?"

  "I’ve got plenty to eat here. I bet you’re not even set up in your kitchen yet. Why don’t ya’ll come on in and I’ll whip up some pancakes and bacon?" Viv was getting a kick out of having her tenants around, especially Megan. Neither her daughter nor her son had given her grandchildren to spoil, and she hadn’t been around little ones in thirty years.

  "We don’t want to be any trouble," Ruth answered, all the while thinking that pancakes and bacon sounded a lot better than cold cereal with powdered milk.

  "I’m gonna fix breakfast anyway. It’s no trouble to just add a little more. Come on and stay."

  "Alright, then thank you. We accept." But she had to talk privately to Jessie before she said anything about the woman back at the trailer. "Could we wash up? And then I’ll come back and help."

  "Sure, right down that hall on the left."

  Ruth guided her daughter into the room and closed the door. Turning on the water, she began to speak. "You like Viv, don’t you?"

  Jessie nodded happily.

  Despite the self-imposed distance, Ruth had to admit that she liked Viv too.

  "Sweetie, don’t forget that we have a secret. Even if we like Viv, we can’t tell her our secret, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "And you know what? We have another secret, too. Do you remember last night when we found that lady in the car and she was hurt?"

  Jessie’s eyes grew big with fright. She had forgotten about that.

  "Honey, that has to be a secret too. We’re going to help her until she’s all better, and then she’ll leave. But we can’t tell anybody she’s here, not even Viv. Okay?"

  "Why not?"

  Good question, Jessie. Damn good question. "It’s really complicated, sweetheart. I guess the best answer is that if we tell somebody she’s here, they might find out about our other secret."

  It was complicated alright. She could tell by the confused look on her daughter’s face that she had more questions. It was just that Jessie hadn’t figured out what to ask next.

  * * *

  Spencer stirred and opened her eyes, struggling to get her bearings. She was in an unfamiliar room with brown paneled walls and windows on each side that rolled out. The room was narrow, and there weren’t any pictures or personal items in here.

  It was coming back to her. The woods…the call to Elena…the car. She hadn’t expected to be driven away. She just needed to hide for awhile, but she must have fallen asleep. It was a miracle that she was here today and not in jail.

  Vaguely, she remembered the woma
n who had tended to her last night…the long blonde hair, the pretty green eyes…the soft, comforting voice …. Where the hell was this place? And why hadn’t that woman called the police?

  Her arm hurt like a son of a bitch, but it no longer felt swollen or hot to the touch. There was a bandage of some sort covering the wound. When she twisted her head to look at it, she was reminded of another injury, the one above her eye…from where that branch had come out of nowhere and smacked her.

  With a colossal effort, Spencer leaned forward and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was very thirsty and her head was pounding like a jackhammer. Pushing herself off the bed, she started for the door, growing dizzier by the step. Flailing wildly, she lunged for the doorknob, hoping to get her balance.

  Then it all went black.

  * * *

  "And you haven’t heard from her since, huh?"

  "No. That was last night, right after dark. She said she was in trouble, Rico. I’m really afraid for her." The worry in Elena’s voice was genuine, even if the conversation wasn’t. As was their habit with family, they spoke in their native Spanish.

  "Do you really think she could have done something like this?"

  "I don’t know what to think."

  Elena and her cousin kept the mindless banter going while his buddy Luis combed the townhouse for surveillance devices. In a handwritten note, the spy-wear hobbyist had already confirmed that her phone was tapped, and Elena assumed that these bastards were also listening in on her cell phone, and most likely, monitoring her ISP.

  "What do you think, Luis?" The IRS agent had noticed earlier the van down the street and assumed that whoever was watching had seen the two men come in. If they were listening, she didn’t want them to suspect the real purpose of Luis’ visit.